


The Felt.

by Dermonster



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dermonster/pseuds/Dermonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Felt are not Nice. They are not Happy. They do not joke.<br/>They do not love. They do not fear.<br/>They are the Felt. And they are the agents of destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One(Ichi[Itchy])

**Author's Note:**

> Comments on how this gave you severe nightmares are appreciated.

Run.

You always run.

But I will always catch you.

Your life is so slow. So small.

Heh.

It amuses me, seeing how you react.

I close in on your face and caress it in my hand. Your eyes slowly widen and your pupils slowly, fraction by fraction, slide over to where I am. I drink in the fear. The understanding that someone not quite real is standing here. Always watching but never seen. I disappear in the half second that you think you see me.

A flicker on your eye. In your face. A movement too quick to see on the wall. Was that vase there before? You turn around to find nothing but wind. When you look back the vase is gone. A faint laugh dances on the stale air.

You run.

Heh.

Keep running.

But no matter how fast you run, I will catch you.

Even Light finds that, after it's long journey, that darkness is there, waiting for it.


	2. Two(Dos[Doze])

I wait.

I always wait.

I see rocks crumble to dust. Oceans drain before my eyes. Stars flicker and die in my vision.

But I will always wait. An immovable rock in the sands of time.

You yell. You plead. I ignore. A touch and all is dust. Time moves on ever forward.

The Guards fumble. I move when they aren't looking. A fraction of an inch.

Time passes and you find a statue in the hallway outside your bedroom.

It was always an odd statue. Green. With a blue hat. The number two. You could swear it was in the gardens a few decades ago. Faulty memory, you suppose. It looks like the eyes follow you. Nothing but superstition, of course.

But I am here. Watching.

Waiting.

And soon the time to strike will come.

No matter how hard the waves crumble the rock, it finds more stone waiting just around the corner.


	3. Three(Tres[Trace])

I know.

I always know.

Your past is like an open book.

I see what you did.

I know how you did it.

But my questions do not lie there.

Tell me what I want to know.

...

No? I see.

You have a son, correct? You saw him this morning.

I know where he is. Where he lives. Surprised are you? No location is safe from me. You have been there, so then shall I.

Or maybe I shall visit your daughter. My oh my, she does seem to be crossing paths with so many others trails. And staying with them in one place for quite some amount of time.

Still nothing? Let's examine your trail then. Ooh, now this is interesting. You having an affair? Oh how sordid. An affair on your affair? How will the public like that?

So tell me then, Tell me what I want to know. Or maybe your past will tell everyone else.

You cry and I laugh.

I always know. And what I don't know, I find out.

The past is always so much brighter when in the darkness.


	4. Four(Quad[Clover])

I am lucky.

I win all of the games.

Favor eats out of my hand. Chance plays to my whims.

Fate looks to me for direction.

Shall we play?

 

A giggle.

You look around a bit. Who was that, you think. Small man. Completely green. Purple hat. The number four.

Must have been your Imagination.

When you get home, you find a shocking scene. Get out of my house you- And your wife leaves you.

A giggle in the darkness. Large green eyes.

You're tired. The fight left you exhausted. You sit down at work an look into the computer.

Faulty wiring. A spark. Flames. Your report is gone.

Fired.

Laughter in a green suit. You take a glance, then turn and stare at where he was.

Nobody is there.

When you get home, so tired. Take a shower. Screw is rusted, pops. The place floods.

Evicted.

Purple hat on the street _no there isn't._

It's too much. You stand in the alleyway, gun at your hand.

Click.

It's jammed.

There is a cackle in the twilight.

You scream.

 

Heh.

Lucky, isn't it?


	5. Five(Penta[Fin])

I see.

...

Hmpf.

You won't escape.

I can see what you will do.

I know what will happen. Chance has no hold over me.

You wont win.

 

You pant a little and find yourself in an alleyway. This guy never gives up, does he? Green skin, eyes. Orange hat. Five. And here he is. Standing in front of you.

Smug bastard. He'll learn not to mess with a black belt. And even then you got a little surprise in your pocket.

You punch, he parries.

You kick, He blocks.

You tackle, he dodges.

 _Why won't you give up?_ He asks. He dances around you, every blow you give deflected or avoided. _I know you will eventually. Why make it so hard for yourself?_

You scream in anger and whip out your gun. He stands still.

One shot.

He tilts his head to the side. A hole appears in the wall.

Another.

He leans to the side, and it hits nothing but air.

You rage and fire wildly. He dances through the air, _A thousand paths to death pass in the blink of an eye. He takes the one leading to life._ And you run out of ammo.

You throw the gun and charge, madness overtaking your senses.

 _Come at me then. You will give in. They all do. I see it. And when you are done, my partner would like to have some words with you._

 

...

Hmpf

It does not matter how hard you struggle.

No matter what you do, I will always be two steps ahead.


	6. Six(Hex[Die])

I like dolls.

They can hold so much power, you know?

They call it voodoo and such. Pins and rags.

I call it a tool.

It's what I do you see. Traverse the infinite time lines.

I search for things. Of course, sometimes I don't know where they are. And sometimes they need to be persuaded...

 

There is a pop, a flash of ozone, and you look up, startled. There is a man in the room. Green skin, green hat (The number six), Green eyes. All green. He has this odd look about him, like an addict in withdrawal. It is then that you see the man laying on the ground next to him.

He looks like... you. But different. There's so much blood. He's pale and terrified, Legs twisted at odd angles, almost catatonic. He opens his mouth to speak and no words comes out. All that is heard is a garbled mess of sound.

 _Where is he?_ You start and turn back to the man.

Wha-

 _WHERE IS HE?_

'I don't know what your talking about.' You manage to stutter.  
 _Cut the bullshit. Where is he? I know you know, We've been tracking you for months. Where. Is. He._

'I... I don't know. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.'

 _Funny. That's what he said too._

There is a horrendous mess of sound, blind panic in your copies eyes. He tries to crawl to the door,and makes it two feet before-

He pulls a gun and lets fly a shot _Four hundred and twelve_ and your doppelganger collapses in a heap of fluid.

He turns to you. _Spill it._

You gape in horror, but your training kicks into overdrive. His location must never be revealed.

I wo-, you say, before you are cut off by a knife to your side. _Then I guess I have another example._

And then you know only pain. Hours later, he asks again, but you can't speak over the blood in your mouth. He sighs.

He pulls out a doll and does something you can't quite make out over the agony.

A puff of ozone.

You collapse on the floor and groan, call out for help, useless habit. You watch the proceedings in a haze before a sentence rings out.

 _Funny, that's what he said too._

You open your eyes, _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod imgonnadieomgonnadieomgonnadie_ The door, you lunge!

Escape!

 _Four hundred and thirteen_

Darkness.

 

It takes time to get it right, of course.

Persuasion is a difficult task.

But then again, I get a lot of practice.


	7. Seven(Sept[Crowbar])

This is mine.

This is my home.

This is my gang.

And this is gonna be my town someday.

 

You run.

It shames you to do so but you have no choice. The felt has bypassed your hideouts defenses, which, should be impossible.

The lower ranks are holding them up with the Status's leading them. The Wilds (Which you are the leader of.) are evacuating.

You crash through a door and hurry toward the submersible. Your contact in West City should be able to hide you for some time.

You run towards the hatch, drop in, and start procedures.

Lights boot up, the engine revs, you're good to go.

Until suddenly the power shorts out.

Nonononononono C'mon baby start up we gotta get out of here-

There is a knock on the side of the sub. You panic and press the launch button.

Nothing happens.

 _You might as well come out, We've got you surrounded._

You sit there for a moment. Then grin.

If you're going down you're taking these fuckers with you.

You stand up, go to the back and take down a nondescript machine gun and stuff a revolver into your pocket.

Always good to be prepared, you think as you take a couple of clips.

You climb out of the hatch and peer out at the dock. Green. They are all green. Skin, eyes, hair. Except for the numbered hats. And there are... Only four people? The entire Uno gang was taken down by _four people?_

Rage fills you and you fling the hatch backwards and start shooting.

 _Itchy._

Ratatata-ratatata-rata-Silence.

Your gun is gone.

You stare at your hands in shock as you hear _Good work Itchy._ come from the apparent ringleader.

You glare at them and dash off to the left entryway. The number two is standing there.

 _Doze._

You ignore the seven, skid to a stop in front of the blue hat, and tackle him to the ground.

You dislocate your shoulder as he stands there like a brick wall. You drop to your knees in pain.

 _Why won't you just give up? Maybe the rest of your friends wouldn't have been killed..._

You hate them.

Rage fills you and you stand. You wipe the sweat off of your head, replace your joint with an audible snap and grit your teeth.

You charge at him.

 _Fin._

The sharky one standing to his right moves right at you. Number five.

He dodges all of your blows. All of them.

You Snarl in anger as an idea forms. You line him up with a series of blows, snatch your revolver and shoot him in the face.

He tilts his head to the side as the bullet whizzes by... and flies straight at crowbar.

Then the bullet disappears.

Yellow hat is tossing something in his hand.

You scream in rage, which is cut short by a punch to the stomach. You wheeze and fall to the floor.

The leader stands over you.

 _You think you can resist? How laughable._

He picks you up by the throat and you gasp as you try to pry them off.

 _It was suicide to try this, you know. Resisting only makes it worse._

He grins.

 _Uno._

He drops me.

 _Wild plus four._

He hefts his crowbar up.

 _Color to green._

It comes down.

 

This is my town.

This is my gang.

And there ain't nobody that's gonna stop us.


	8. Eight(Infinity[Snowman])

I cannot die.

That, of course, is false.

I can die. It's just that whenever I get injured, my consciousness transfers into a universe in which I did not get injured. This, later on, left me with a reputation of invulnerability.

My body represents the universe. So, when the mind leaves, it dies and...

I'm not sure, exactly, what happens.

 

You look up from your gun in shock.

There had been an attack on your hideout earlier that morning. Nobody really knew by whom. All reports were of a black woman in a black trench coat with a green outline, with what seemed like a cross between a fedora and a sombrero. It also said that she attacked with a lance (somehow) and a whip.

From your private intel, she was Sn0wman of the felt, Second only to English and his mysterious partner.

The felt were a relatively new gang in town whose theme was pool, and opposed the Midnight crew, whose theme was Cards. They had already taken down the entire clubs wing of their gang, aside form the ace.

And you, 3rd wild of the Uno's, had killed her.

You grin as you echo into the radio. The boss was gonna love this.

*A few hours later.*

You hold up your martini at the crowd of cheers. The boss had announced your triumph (No matter how lucky it had been) at tonight's victory party. Cheers went up in the crowd, (The Felt had a record of being nearly unbeatable) but you couldn't help but peer around. Something really seemed off, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

Ah well, you decide as the main course comes out, doesn't matter.

*The morning of the next day.*

You groan a bit as you sit up. You had one too many, you think, as you step into your suit.

You grab a glass of water and pocket a few things as you head out.

"Hey! Heya boss!"

You look up and see the Double Draw of Red.

The double draws were highly skilled folk. Could use any gun you'd care to name to perfection, but also dual wield that very same gun with maximum precision.

The time it takes to train one up means there's only four at a single time. But then there's only four of all the three Status positions, as well as four wilds, who combine all three Status abilities into a single deadly person. Only the Wild+4 Is higher up on the chain.

It gets a bit confusing but they based the gang off of Uno so you have nobody to blame but the founder.

Red DD was a newbie, you guess, as everyone knows not to talk like that to a wild in that tone. You let it slide, just this once.

"What is it?"

"The entire Felt mansion disappeared last night!"

You pause in shock. What? The Felt was weird sure, and Sn0wman was a capable leader, but English was still alive!

"Thanks for the info.", you say dully, and the DD of R wanders off.

You walk down the hall, thinking it over, when you reach a specific hallway. It hold one of your favorite paintings, drawn and hung last night in honor of your victory, and you stop to admire it.

You can't see it.

Or more accurately, your eyes keep sliding off of the place where it should have been. _There's nothing here move along_ a voice whispers.

You almost follow it when your Skip training kicks in. Skips are the absolute masters of stealth, able to get past even the mightiest of fortifications and illusions unnoticed.

This just happens to be an unbelievably powerful self delusion.

 _Breath focus twist turn pull break shatter_

And you see it.

Or more accurately, there is nothing to see.

A gaping hole of bright swirling darkness resides in the wall. Swirling streams of non-existence dance through the tear in reality.

You stare in horror before you notice a crack break off more of the wall.

You run.

*Five hours later.*

"Look boss it's right here," you say in a panic.

He stares at you, then he turns to look at the wall.

The cracks have gotten bigger, but he shows no reaction.

"Wild 3 what in the hell are you talkin' about?"

"It's right there! Use your Skip training! It's a powerful self delusion!" You scream in a panic.

"Son, I'm hells of a lot better at Skip's than you are, and I'm tellin' ya, there Ain't nothin' there! Maybe I should take you to see the Reverse's. I hear they can make excellent psychologists... sometimes."

The Reverses are the best Torturers and information gatherers this side of East City. You would absolutely dread having one as a psychologist

"But the painting isn't there anymore," you argue desperately.

He looks confused and examines the hallway.

"Son we never had any painting in this hallway."

"Of course there was a painting in this hallway! It was drawn last night as a reward for killing Sn0wman!" You yell, tears in your eyes.

Now the boss looks extremely confused.

Then he says something you completely freeze at.

" _Son, You ain't never killed Sn0wman, the entire gangs been missing since three in the mornin'! You feeling alright?_ "

The hole cracks and gets bigger.

*Two days later.*

You nervously go down to breakfast. You had your suspicions confirmed yesterday morning after a session with a reverse.

The entire world is in a giant loop of time. Every three O'clock the world spins back to the past, and you find yourself waking up at seven in your bed.

And the holes have spread.

There are crevices in space and time everywhere now. Floors, Walls, Ceilings, and everything that goes in is gone. Nobody remembers it. You are the only one able to see them.

Others don't fall in somehow, though. (Survival mechanism?) They just walk around them, or if it has completely blocked a path, they simply find a different one.

You walk in fear.

*Three weeks later*

You don't dare to look at anyone anymore. Their faces and clothes and bodies have become patchwork with holes.

A half skull with eyes passes you an egg while an exposed muscle covering walks by.

You retreat to your room. The watch you as you leave.

Unblinking.

*Three months later*

The lake is boiling. You don't know why. Something to do with the buildup of heat.

You haven't looked anyone in the face for two months now.

They don't have them.

You cry into what remains of your pillow as the day passes.

*One week later*

You see something in the nothing.

A flash of darkness.

It had a pupil.

The whispers start.

*One day later.*

They are back, In a way.

The holes are filled. But still the walls degrade into what filled them.

Yells echo through your mind as various people you once knew become abominations.

Slowly.

Painfully.

And still you are the only one who knows.

You scream into the darkness.

*One year later*

A thought occurs. You have never looked into a mirror since the day Sn0wman fell.

As you walk, the last spots of normality are swallowed up by the horrors.

The only way to go is forward. Your mind gibbers and the last thread unwinds.

You spot one, laying on the floor, face down.

You pick it up and look.

 

I Don't know what happens when my body dies.

All I can say is that I hope it hurts.


	9. Nine(Nona[Stitch])

I like puppets.

It is always enjoyable to manipulate them.

To watch them dance.

I make them myself you know. With self woven cloth and hand made thread.

I make the puppets.

And then I make them dance.

 

You glare at the man sitting in front of you. All green. Yellow hat. Stitched scar on his cheek.

"I'm not telling you anything." You say.

He ignores you.

You feel nervous.

He just sits there.

Sewing something.

Stuffing it.

When he finishes, you behold what he made.

A ragdoll.

You bark out a laugh.

"A ragdoll? Is that the best torture the Felt can come up with? I won't even need my Reverse lessons!" You brag.

He just smirks and takes your hat. He sets it on the ragdoll, and he hangs the stuffed man on a rope.

You gasp as you feel a slight constriction.

 _You got quite a talker on there, dontch'a?_

He grins and turns around. He does something you can't quite make out.

 _You did us wrong when you went and blew up that warehouse, ya know._

You glare at him. Was the real interrogation about to start? You prepare your mental defences. No pain or mental talk would reach you.

You are the best there is.

 _So he boss wants a bit of revenge ya' see._

And he turns around and stabs the mannequin in the side.

You are confused. "What, do you think some stab to a-"

And then you feel it. A white hot pain courses through your side.

You bite your tongue and try not to scream.

And then it is gone.

'Wha...? Did I imagine that?'

And he stands there. Smirking.

 _So I get's to torture ya, see?_

He leans into my face.

 _And I'm the best that there is._

He turns and threads up a hole.

Then he stabs again.

You do not scream. You were taught better than that.

He repairs the opening, then he laughs and plunges it into it's chest.

You do not scream.

He slashes its legs.

You do not scream.

A glint enters his eye.

He makes cuts. Small tears. Papercuts appear patchworked across your body.

You writhe but you do not scream.

He laughs and takes out a lighter.

You shake, but you do not scream.

He takes out industrial acid.

You can barely remain concious, but you do not scream.

He laughs.

And eventually your body can't take it anymore. Your eyes glaze over...

 _Your standing on a golden road to a gate. You walk toward the gate in wonder. Music is playing._

 _You step through and see someone. You laugh and embrace her._

 _'I missed you' you murmur into her hair. A small figure pulls on your leg and you start to cry as you pick him up._

You wake.

The hat is on a new doll.

Already a hole is stitched.

He grins.

You cannot scream.

You have no mouth.

 

I like certain puppets more than others.

They dance better.

Its just a shame that they break so easily.


	10. Ten(Deca[Sawbuck])

I don't feel pain.

I never did, really. All I feel is the wind against my skin.

When I travel, of course, I feel pain.

But it's not the kind of pain that you think it is.

 

You receive an order from your boss.

'We captured a member of the Felt earlier today. He is in Cell six. Gather any information you can get from him and report back to me.'

'A+4'

You stand up from your desk and grin. You finally got one of those bastards here did you?

Happy day.

A while later, you enter his cell.

Green skin, eyes. Blue hat. Number 10.

His head looks like a brick. You snort to yourself despite the surroundings.

You regain your composure, "Hello there." You say.

 _Hello._

His gaze meets yours. You smirk.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

 _Yes._

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to spill without all of the hassle?"

 _I'm not spilling one way or the other. No matter how much you try._

"Shame," you say, as you examine the wall. "I don't like to get blood on my suit. Really hikes the dry cleaning up."

You grab a small dagger from a rack.

You turn to him.

"Who is your leader?" We already knew this.

 _Lord English._

"Where is he."

He grins. _I'm not telling you._

"Wrong answer."

And you stab his hand.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

You jump in shock. Where once was sterile white walls there was now a lush forest.

The Felt man laughs, the chair holding him, gone.

You snarl at him. "Take me back you fucker!"

And you stab him again.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

You fall two feet into a red desert. You spit up sand as the glaring sun bakes the grains below.

 _Too little too late._

You get up and stab him again.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

Your anger subsides to worry. A giant, broken metropolis looms overhead.

And again.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

Your worry subsides to fear. An arctic tundra. A roar is heard.

And again.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

Your fear devolves to panic.

And you stab again.

And again.

And again.

 _The world shifts and blurs..._

And eventually you stop.

You try to move your arms.

You can't.

You try to move your legs.

You can't.

You try to open your eyes.

You can't.

You try to feel. To hear. To smell.

You can't.

You try to think.

You can.

You try to scream.

You can't.

 

The pain is of never seeing more than a few cycles.

Not all locations in the time line are above ground.

The remains make nice statues though.


	11. Eleven(Pause[Matchsticks])

I like fire.

The warm embers always manage to cheer me up.

Some things burn better than others though.

But the flames never last long enough.

 

You wait, gun pinned to the door. Your comrades surround you. The central mainframe for the Uno gang behind.

You had a tip earlier that the Felt was gonna try to take it down. Whoever they were, they were right. They had already brushed past three blockades like wet tissues.

This is your last stand.

You tense with anticipation. The vault door starts to turn.

It opens, and you yell to fire while pressing the trigger.

Except you don't. You can't move.

A man walks inside. All green. Red striped hat.

11

He carries a bag over his shoulder, and a match in his hand. Where he walks, a light shines.

He walks past your field of vision, and you still cant move.

The light is bright.

A minute passes.

You see a member of your gang to the left. He still has his back against a barricade. He can see what you can't.

His eyes show fear.

Time resumes for a fraction of a second, then pauses again.

The light is different. Bigger. Redder.

Hotter.

But you don't notice. Your comrade has his mouth open.

His scream is frozen. It plays through your eardrums at a pace unrecognizable by time.

It consumes your mind. It is a shriek of panic.

A wail of fear.

'What is he scared of?' You think, horrified.

It drags through the air, and you are dragged with it.

You will yourself to turn away, stop looking forward.

Time resumes and pauses again.

You can see.

The man walks past again, grinning. He still has a match.

There is a covered object on top of the mainframe.

A tiny piece of rope hangs out.

There is light on the tip.

Time resumes.

 

I have always loved fire.

It's just a shame the best fuel never lasts for long.


	12. Twelve(Legion[Eggs])

I am never alone.

Not really.

I don't really get what other people mean by loneliness.

Do you, me?

No. I don't.

 

You think rapidly as you escape from the burning ruins of the bunker.

Of course! The great tunnel under the harbor! Laden with so many traps, nothing could get through.

You turn sharply on the corner and careen over a man in your rush.

He was green.

Purple striped hat.

Twelve.

You don't notice.

You arrive.  
__________________________________________________________

You charge through the halls, activating every trap that you come across.

The tunnel has seen better days, the bulkheads are so rusted as to be unusable, but the traps work fine, concealed in the walls with minimum exposure to air.

As you come up against a turn, you slam your hand against a scanner. Saw blades emerge out of the walls, lasers crisscross the air, and turrets spring out of the ceiling.

You grin and turn to keep running.

Except the rest of the tunnel has caved in.

You gape at it for a full minute, then hurriedly turn to deactivate the traps so you can get out.

Except he is standing at the entrance of the tunnel.

He looks upward, his mouth open. Drooling slightly.

You scowl, then laugh.

They only sent one guy! You may not be able to get out, but he sure as hell cant get in.

"Whats the matter, retard? Your teammates send you out alone?"

He turns to look at you.

And he rushed into the saw blades.

The walls are dyed red.

You gape in confusion. Did that just happen?

No wait, he's still at the entrance. But the saw blade is still red.

He charges again. The floor is slick with blood and he is at the entrance.

But now there's two of him.

And the saw blade churns.

Now there is ten.

Now there is fifty.

Now there is one hundred.

The saw blades, coated with bone and gore, grind to a halt, inner workings knotted with blood.

They charge into the automated machine guns.

And they die. Droves fall upon the floor.

Lead flies through the air and they come.

The bodies lay on the floor. They ride a wave of their own blood.

The ammo runs out.

Surely they can't cross this, you think to yourself, horrified and panicked.

The beams of heat burn through the flesh. The stench permeates the air.

They fall upon the light and they burn, yet still they come.

And by the thousand they throw themselves, and by the inch they create a doorway.

The beams blocked by the dead, they charge through.

They charge without care. They trample on alternate selves in their maddened rush for blood not of their own.

And there is nowhere to run from the swarm.

 

I am never alone.

I like it that way.

You see, I like me.

But there is just so much of me to go around...

I figure I should share.


	13. Thirteen(Remembrance[Biscuits])

I am.

That's all I have to claim.

I don't have any special powers.

I cannot travel through time without assistance.

I cannot do much of anything really.

But I can say this much.

I know who I am.

 

As you run through the mansion, weaving between furniture and ducking through doorways, you mentally curse everyone back at home base with every fiber of your being.

 _Steal his crowbar_ They said. _It will be easy._

When you get back you are going to sock them one in the jaw.

You dash through another dozen or so doors, the sound of crashing and cursing far behind you. You stop for a breather.

It is silent, and you take the moment to observe your surroundings.

Clocks.

Fuckin' clocks. What is with these guys and clocks? Clocks and the color green.

I mean, c'mon. You like the color as much as any other guy, but this is just ridiculous.

As you move on, something catches your eye, hidden under a stairwell.

It is a sign.

"DO NOT ENTER"

A thousand thoughts run through your head.

 _Why would the **Felt** of all people have someplace they cannot go to?_

 _I really should get going._

But the most prominent one goes thusly:

 _I need to find out what it is._

You take in the room quickly, and confident in your solitude, open the door.

The stairs lead into darkness.

You close it quietly behind you and fumble for a light switch.

When it hit's you are slightly disappointed by what you see.

For unknowable lengths the room is filled with junk.

Furniture, appliances, and various knickknacks lined the walls and floor.

You walk up to a lamp and examine it.

Worthless.

You set it down and walk away when it crashes on the floor.

You spin around.

The lamp is still on top of the table.

You blink before the lamp falls again.

It crashes.

Then it rebuilds itself.

As If in slow motion, you see it fall up and perch back on top of the table, teetering over the edge.

It falls again and the door creaks open above you.

 _Got you._

You run.

Weaving through the maze of junk, you can barely keep ahead of your pursuer.

Left, right, left, left, upper right, front.

You stop, and the hurried footsteps behind you do as well.

A dead end. Two couches with boxes to the ceiling lead to a small couch and an oven.

You turn around slowly, backing against the appliance as the large man comes forward. Something overhead drips onto the floor.

 _Thought you could just sneak around could ya?_

You never were great at hand to hand. Or hand to crowbar as the situation implies. Barely sub par, actually.

 _Ya even tried to steal my weapon. That's some nerve you got._

He grins as you prepare for the fight of your life.

 _Nerve won't save you from me pal. I promise that this'll only hurt a lot for a very long time._

He charges and you attempt to regain your footing, replicating fighting stance 7.

Your foot slips.

You flail your arm out and catch the bar of the oven. Your back crashes into the suddenly open door, and you start to slide backwards as the door closes of it's own accord.

The last thing you see is a crowbar heading toward you as the door closes.

 

 _It's bright._ You think as you come to your senses.

Bright and hot.

You brush some sand from your body as you climb to your feet.

A baking desert surrounds you in every direction. There is no visible entryway that you could have come out of.

With nothing else to do, you begin walking.

 

You are sweating.

You abandoned your jacket long ago from the heat. This proved to be a mistake, as not you had less to protect you from the sun.

You ache to move, your skin a mess of red streaks and cracks. Blisters erupt on your feet from the long walk.

But you have to keep walking. You need to get back.

You continue.

 

You are very tired. So tired.

You don't know how long you've been walking. You try to remember how how got here but you can't. The past shifts and blurs.

But you are tired, and sore. You feel hot all over, while your vision blurs.

You stop and sway for a second as a rush of blood fills your head, then departs.

Opening your eyes, you see an oasis ahead.

With straggling steps, and swaying balance, you rush forward and collapse into water.

Hot sand rises against your head and you laugh, and laugh, _and laugh..._

 

You awaken abruptly.

Something cracked. There is a hole above you.

A swirling green hole, a vortex of energy, spiraling and frothing.

Confused and tired... _so very tired...Just go back to sleep..._

You reach up and touch it.  
Itburnsitburnsitburnsitburns _itburnsitburnsitburns **itburnsitburns!**_

And you feel _alive._

With new energy, you set out once more.

 

The cycle has gone on for as long as you have known it. Walk, collapse, reach out, and walk again.

Each time you touch the green vortexes, something fills you and you feel so refreshed, energized, and so much _better._ Aches and pains you never knew you had fade away once you touch the heavenly swirls.

But once in a while you think you hear something in the endless winds, something about the past... but you can never hear it clearly.

You just continue onward, one green foot at a time.

 

It doesn't happen suddenly. Over time, you notice the changes. The dunes of sand are shorter, the rifts, smaller. The unbearable heat overhead has reduced to annoyance

In time, the dunes disappear completely. Occasionally you step into a patch bare of sand. It feels cool to the touch, and is smooth.

You had forgotten the feeling of metal. You touch it, memorizing the sensation before you move onwards.

And eventually, The rifts stop appearing. The sand is gone. And the endless horizon is shrinking rapidly.

Perhaps it is the end, you wonder.

And you are sitting in a box, the door bashes open, and a man with a crowbar raises said item menacingly.

He drops the weapon, then grins.

He holds out a hand.

Something long silent whispers to you, yells and screams at you, but you've forgotten how to hear.

You take it.

 

I know who I am, I can say that much.

My name is Biscuits, And I am a member of the felt.


End file.
